Allen in Wonderland
by Metallover130
Summary: After reading "Alice in Wonderland", Road decides to create her own dream world of the children's classic, and invites some of the Exorcists along for the ride. Disclaimer: I do not own D-Gray Man or AiW.
1. Chapter 1

Allen in Wonderland: Down the Rabbit Hole

Upside-down, blood rushing to his head, and wrestling with a throbbing migraine, Allen Walker decided that _no_, his day was not going as well as he had hoped it would that morning.

It had started with the mission Komui had pushed across the desk. Another Innocence to find, another akuma to kill, so on and so forth, and of course there was no time for breakfast. It wasn't exactly a difficult undertaking, going off into the countryside to search for a single Innocence, but Komui had insisted that most of the Exorcists go along, to cover more ground. There had been mention of at least one Noah, but that had been a month ago, and history showed the Noah didn't stay in one place for very long. Even if they had been there they were gone now.

So Allen had company. Lenalee, Lavi, Miranda and Kanda accompanied him, and all together the five Black Order Exorcists scoured a mile and a half of raw countryside trying to find one piece of Innocence, without any idea what it looked like. Lavi had, naturally, given up after a quarter of an hour and gone to sit by himself on a rock both smooth and flat, and closed his one visible eye. Kanda had Mugen out in a flash ready to get the red-head more motivated than he'd ever been in his life, but Lenalee got him calm and searching again. She offered Allen a pained smile, and using her own Innocence she gliding over the tall grass and through the trees. Kanda grumbled about one-eyed imbeciles and pointedly ignored Allen, which Allen had absolutely no problem with. As for Miranda, she was content to get on her hands and knees and crawl through the grass with her face close to the ground like an animal. This was probably just a defense mechanism to satisfy her desire to hide.

That was how he ended up alone. With Lavi asleep, Lenalee busy, Miranda neck-deep in foliage, and Kanda being his anti-social self, Allen wandered into the deeper parts of the woods, where not as much light fell. He was unafraid though—with the Crowned Clown and his cursed eye, he was at ease, and it was his ease that got him into his unfortunate predicament.

Since he had not been looking for any sort of person—in lieu of a kind of object, though there was no standard with Innocence—he missed the shadowy figure completely. It wasn't until it was too late that he saw her, dancing on the branch, giggling behind her hand like the sweet child she pretended to be.

"Allen-kun," she smiled, her grey pallor aglow with joy. She was wearing a new outfit, one he'd never seen before. It as a blue dress, with white stockings, a white apron, and little black mary-janes. It was difficult to see in her purple-black hair, but she'd adorned herself with a tiny black headband decorated with itty-bitty teacups, and she had a handful of playing cards, not unlike the ones Tyki Mikk might have on his person at any given time.

"Road," Allen said, feeling his heart begin to pound faster. Road was easily the most dangerous of the Noah, not in size or strength but in ability. Tyki could tear out your heart while it still madly beat, or Skinn could crush you into pulp—even Jasdevi could imagine up some macabre thing to kill you with. Only Road could get inside your head, where you couldn't defend yourself, and tear you apart from the foundation up. He'd already seen what she could do first-hand, and it was not a pretty picture.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, as if she had no idea, and Allen knew very well that she did know why he was there.

"Taking a stroll," Allen replied with a smile. "It's such a lovely day."

"It is, isn't it?" Road agreed, tromping back and forth across the branch. It was eerie how it never moved, no matter how hard she stepped. "But I know a place much nicer than this, if a golden afternoon is what you're looking for." She paused to point downward, and to Allen's infinite surprise there was a hole there, the biggest hole he'd ever seen, at least in a forest. It was at least as wide as he was tall, and as much as Kanda liked to profess Allen's shortcomings, the white-haired youth was a good five feet four inches, and that made the hole _very_ wide.

Road giggled and dropped the playing cards down the hole, and they fell like leaves in autumn into the gaping chasm. The rectangular patches of white fell and fell, until they vanished. Road waved them good bye, sad to see them go.

"Where does that hole lead?" Allen asked, secretly afraid of what she might say.

"Wonderland," Road said playfully. "Want to come and play with me there? I promise we'll have lots of fun." She said fun like it was something you did with rusty surgical tools, and Allen took a step back.

"No thanks, I'm all set," he smirked, but it was transparent and Road saw right through it. Her gold eyes were peeling him layer by layer, like some perverse candy, only instead of creme in the center it was organs, rich with metallic blood. As if on cue, Road licked her lips, and now she was pointing at him.

"But Allen, don't you see? You're already down the rabbit hole." Before Allen could question what she meant by that he felt a pressure on his back, like a fish hook had been inserted into him, and was being dragged against his will towards the inky abyss. He ground his heels into the dirt and tugged at the invisible bonds that held him, but it was all futile. Road's smile said it all, and when Allen was at the rim of the hole she blew him a kiss and waved.

"See you in Wonderland, Allen-kun," she called, and he was unceremoniously released, the hook jerking out of him to send him spiraling, flailing his arms with nothing to grab on to. He spun to face the sky as he plummeted into the dark, and the last thing he saw was Road, still smiling, still waving, and then gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Allen in Wonderland: The White Rabbit

Allen fell for an eternity. The dark, at length, gave way to light, and soon Allen saw he was not falling through any regular old human-sized rabbit hole. Either the hole was very deep, or he was falling very slowly, because he had plenty of time to look around and wonder about where he was, and what was going to happen next.

The walls of the hole were literally _full _of shelves, though not a one held a single book. There was a jar that read "ORANGE MARMALADE", but Allen—who was still without breakfast—was very disappointed to find it was empty. He deposited it upon another shelf as he floated ever downward, picking out half a piano, a grandfather clock, and a rocking chair lodged in the walls as he went.

Down, down, down. Would the fall _never_ come to an end? Suddenly, _thump_! _thump_! down he came upon a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and the fall was over.

This was where Allen had found himself upside-down, blood rushing to his head, and struggling with a migraine. The fall hadn't really hurt him too badly, but falling on your head never felt good. Climbing to his feet, dusting himself off, Allen was aware that he was no longer wearing his uniform or armor. There just happened to be a full-length mirror a few steps away in a long, low-ceilinged corridor outside the place he'd fallen, and Allen raced over to it to examine himself.

He was dressed in what could only have been the male parody of the outfit he'd seen Road sporting just a while ago (it felt like hours but it couldn't really be more than a few minutes, could it?). The headband was mercifully absent and the mary-janes had been traded for black loafers, but the rest was like something he might have worn if he'd intended to dress-up to match Road as her twin brother. He was now dressed in sky blue knickerbockers and a white dress shirt with the buttons all the way to the collar, and a black ribbon for a tie, likely in place of the headband. He was still wearing white stockings though, and he found them to be horrendously uncomfortable.

"This is absolutely not funny," he muttered. Just then he'd pivoted to view his other side in the mirror, and saw something was protruding from his back pocket. Fishing it out he found it was one of the playing cards Road had tossed ahead of him; it was the ace of Hearts. It had his name on it, written in script across the heart in atrociously black ink. For some reason that felt as if it wouldn't bode well for Allen, and yet he put the card back, sensing that it was somehow necessary, or else it wouldn't be there.

It was all too obvious to Allen what was going on now; he was surprised it had taken him as long to work out as it had—this was of course one of Road's innumerable dream realms, strange interstices of her design, usually made for the singular purpose of customized torture. Why she had chosen such a nonsensical realm as this, he had no idea. Why did Road do anything? It was just as likely she had something much worse than a mild fall in store for him, if experience was anything to go by.

"Oh my ears and whiskers, how late it's getting!" a voice broke through, shattering the relative silence of the hall. Allen looked and to his immense astonishment and relief he spotted Miranda standing not too far away. Though, he frowned when he saw her, because her garb had changed too, and she was wearing something he definitely doubted she'd _ever_ wear, not even if threatened with death. It had to be another adjustment made my Road for her dream world, because Miranda's uniform had been replaced with a golden-yellow corset-style bodice that looked like a one-piece bathing suit, and red garters hugged her thighs that led to her bares knees and calves, which attached to her feet, which were situated in red high heels, something he wasn't even aware Miranda knew how to walk in. It had to be Road's influence, because she was pacing back and forth without even a teeter to her gait. She was holding a huge pocket watch, but more absurd than that were the huge white rabbit ears protruding from her mess of black hair and the big bushy rabbit's tail that topped off the back of her showy outfit. He couldn't deny the outfit was outlandish, but it actually suited her. He'd never seen her in something so . . . _revealing_, and it was embarrassing to have a blush rising to his cheeks.

"Miranda?" he called to her quietly. She jumped at his voice, and with a startled squeal took off down the corridor, running much faster than he'd seen a woman run in high heels since Lenalee. "Miranda, wait, it's me, Allen!"

"I'm late!" she shrieked, not looking back or appearing to acknowledge the white-haired boy at all. "I'm late, I'm late, _I'm late_!" She turned at a corner Allen had not seen and when he rounded it a second later she was very much absent, without a trace or a hint as to where she'd gotten to.

Out of breath and already frustrated, Allen lashed out a small door about fifteen inches high, giving it a swift kick.

"_Ouch_!" the door cried, making Allen yelp and jump back. The door had no hands to rub itself with to ease the pain of Allen's blow, but it did jiggle in it's frame angrily.

"I'm sorry," Allen said after a minute. "I had no idea you were there."

"Well, now you do," the door said indignantly, and Allen saw it's mouth was the tiny keyhole beneath the knob, which was spinning back and forth in genuine upset. "Come now, what awful manners, going around and kicking blameless doors who were only minding their own business!"

"I said I was sorry," Allen muttered to himself. The door didn't resemble anyone else he knew, which for the time being was good thing. If Miranda was here too, then who else could Road have brought through the rabbit hole? Allen feared for his friends, wherever they may be.

"Are you going to use me or not?" the door asked, and though it had no real face Allen thought it might be frowning.

"Where do you go?" Allen asked it. It was a door, it had to go somewhere.

"Why, to the Queen of Hearts garden, of course," the door replied, as if Allen was stupid not for knowing. "To-day is her croquet game. Have you been invited?"

"I don't know," Allen confessed, and he was sure he wasn't. He had no idea who the Queen was, or why she might invite him to her garden party or croquet game or whatever else she might be doing.

"You've got an invitation in your pocket," the door pointed out (without pointing, as it had no hands). Allen touched the playing card, pulling it out to examine again. It was still just the Ace of Hearts. "Yes, that's it," the door said. "I guess I ought to let you in then, if you've got a key."

That Allen didn't have. He looked around, and a there was a little glass table behind him, one he was sure hadn't been there when he'd first come around the corner. There was a small gold key on the rim. Allen took it and used it unlock the little door, which made quite a fuss about having something shoved into it's mouth. Once it was open though, Allen encountered another problem—it was only fifteen inches high, and Allen was much too tall to fit. His head might have been able to get through, but without his shoulders his head was extreme useless.

"I can't fit," Allen sighed. The door scoffed and told him he'd have to get small then. Allen didn't have the slightest clue as to how the door expected him to accomplish that. It was apparently growing frustrated with Allen's ignorance, and it pointed to the table again (still without hands) and now, where the key had been, there was a glass bottle, the perfect size of Allen's normal hand, with a paper tag around the neck with "DRINK ME" printed upon it in beautiful script.

Allen's stomach growled. It _had_ been a long time since dinner yesterday. Still, he checked the bottle over in case it read "poison" somewhere. It didn't, but Allen had to remind himself he was in Road's world now, and the clear liquid in the bottle could be anything. But, really, why would Road go through all the trouble of bringing him here, dressing him up, bringing Miranda and possibly the others, and setting him off on this ridiculous journey only to kill him with some poison? It would have been too easy, and lacked any kind of creativity. Besides, it said to drink it. So Allen did.

The flavor was curious, and impossibly better tasting than anything Jerry had ever made. All at once he tasted cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffy, and hot buttered toast. But more amazing than the flavors was that Allen was now only ten inches high, and just the perfect size to fit through the door. Except he'd forgotten the gold key back up on the glass table, and no way to reach it. He tried invoking his Innocence—hoping to just tear the table down—but found, to his horror, he couldn't. His hand remained completely unchanged. It had to be another of Road's tricks, and it left Allen completely at her mercy.

"Great, now I'm stuck," he fumed, and was getting close to kicking something else in hopes it might prove beneficial, when he tripped backwards over a glass chest. Climbing off it Allen found it to be full of cakes, all with the words "EAT ME" scrawled across the frosting with blue icing. Allen sighed, wondering what the worst was that could happen. Besides, he was _hungry_.

Ten minutes later found Allen close to ten feet tall, his head brushing the ceiling of the corridor. Down below he heard the door calling up something about how he wasn't supposed to eat the _entire_ cake, and Allen glared and nudged it with the toe of his shoe. Yes, well, he knew that now, didn't he? Allen was about to take destruction as his next best route and begin smashing the walls with his elbows when he heard the patter-click of heels, and Miranda was back, coming the way she had before, now carrying a fan and a white pair of kid gloves. Allen was desperate and prayed Miranda might recognize him now, so timidly he said: "Miranda, up here, do you think you could—"

Miranda started violently, dropped the fan and kid gloves, and took off into the darkness as hard as she could go, leaving Allen alone again. He groaned. She really _didn't_ recognize him; though she always ran screaming when scared, and so maybe she was just as jumpy as always.

While thinking this Allen had picked up the gloves and fan and begun fanning himself, since he'd become insufferably hot. "Why aren't there any windows in here?" he demanded to no one. The hall was indeed free of windows but there doors as far as he could see. He wondered where they all went, and while he wondered he'd put the kid gloves on to cover his hands, without even thinking about it.

"How did I do that?" he gasped. "I must be shrinking!" It was true, Allen had shrunk so much that Miranda's tiny, feminine gloves fit over his hands perfectly. He realized that holding the fan was turning him smaller and smaller, and so he hurled the fan away before he got any shorter. He was only about two feet high, and while the small, talking door was still much to small there was another door that was just his height, and it was ajar. "Miranda must have gone that way," he thought, and without a glance behind him Allen rushed through the portal and headlong into another faucet of Road's warped mind.


	3. Chapter 3

Allen in Wonderland: Road's Improvements

Allen had never read _Alice in Wonderland_, but even he knew that what he encountered after leaving the hall of doors was not what Lewis Carroll had written, oh no, not ever.

The door he walked through took him to woodlands, small and quaint, not unlike the one he'd been in looking for Innocence when Road had trapped him. It was much sunnier though, bright and happy like something from out a storybook—which, in retrospect, it all was—and as Allen was walking along he wondered if Road might not have something else in mind outside mentally breaking him. What was she playing at, with all this? The most terrible thing so far was the shrinking and the growing and then the shrinking again, none of which had hurt. Why was she acting so . . . nonsensical? Normally she played with him, yes, but this was getting tedious. He kept waiting for her or an akuma to jump out and stab him with something while he was vulnerable, but no blows ever came.

He was beginning to think she'd just intended to trap him forever with nothing to do but chase after Miranda and never catch her, when, just as he'd stopped looking, he finally did, without even trying.

At the edge of the woods Miranda was sitting against a tree, knees drawn up to her chest, sobbing into her hands with miserable abandon. He was about to ask her what had made her cry, when he saw for himself the source of her wracking misery. It was so awful to look at that Allen fell to his knees, his legs going traitorously weak.

The Dodo bird and all the other racing animals from the Caucus Race (as stated previously Allen had never read _Alice_, but he knew the more glorified parts) were hanging from the trees, ropes fastened round their necks, all dead and broken, their little furry and feathered bodies swaying in the wind. Allen gaped at them with eyes made wide with fear, and somewhere behind him Miranda was wailing, veritably howling. All the dead animals were dressed in Black Order uniforms, Road's favorite candles driven through the cross of the Order like stakes into a vampire. There was a banner as well, a banner for the Dodo's cause, and the white letters were dominated by new words written in what could only have been his own blood.

"_Exorcists are Dodos and you're all running in a Caucus Race!_" the banner proclaimed merrily, the blood still wet and glimmering in the noonday sun. Allen couldn't tear his eyes away from it; not until Miranda began crying even louder, saying something about how the Duchess would be savage if she was late, but she couldn't go without her gloves and fan, and now she'd never have them again. Allen went to her, hoping for to comfort her even if she didn't seem to know him.

"What do you mean?" he asked gently. "Your gloves are right here." He pulled off the kid gloves from before and pushed them into her hands. For the first time since arriving he saw her face clear. She looked at the gloves as if she'd never seen them before in her life.

"But what about my fan?" she said a moment later, after tugging the gloves back on. "I can't go to the Duchess without my fan, and my house is—" She pointed behind her, back into the trees, past the gore, and fell back to sobbing with a great show of melancholy. Allen followed where she'd pointed to, and came to a clearing where once a charming cottage had stood. Now all that remained was a pile of smouldering ashes. Allen recalled that the house had burnt to get Alice out in the story, but it seemed that Road had seen to it that the house burned down ahead of schedule. This was her world after all, it was her decision, and apparently there was no love lost for the White Rabbit. There was another banner, this one spread like a tarp out across the ashes.

"_The Real Black Order_" this one said, the letters printed instead of scrawled with blood. But even neat and clear, the message was far more striking than the blood had been. It reflected Road's intentions, and Allen strode quickly back out of the woods to find Miranda again, and maybe he'd stay with her, so at the very least he wouldn't be alone—

—but she was gone again. Her footprints were in the dirt though, shaped like a rabbit's foot instead of a heel, and Allen knew he had no choice but to follow yet again. Leaving the grim scene behind Allen took off after Miranda for the third time that day, puzzling frantically over what would become of the others.

Allen met with his next obstacle some time later, after another bout of extreme boredom. He followed Miranda's tracks for what felt like hours, until at last he reached a grand looking mushroom, bigger than any mushroom he'd ever seen. There was someone seated upon it, dressed all in black, wearing a rather obnoxious black fedora to match. They had a shock of crimson hair protruding from the back of their head. They were smoking too, a bright, glossy red hookah sitting beside them, and they drew the pipe up to their mouth, breathing in and exhaling great clouds of smoke shaped like the letters of the alphabet.

The white-haired youth felt his stomach drop into his intestines, and he paled to the color of fresh milk. Why, of all people, was _he_ here? This had to be a product of Road's dream world, because there was no way in Hell _he_ was here, no sir. _He_ would never have gotten caught.

Allen flinched out of habit, expecting a blow to the head, but receiving nothing in the way of harm. The figure just kept right on smoking. When Allen didn't move the figure pivoted to face him, and, at last taking the hookah from it's mouth it said in a sleepy, languid voice: "Who are _you_?"

"You know who I am, Master," Allen said at length, when the strangeness of his master's appearance had worn off enough for him to speak. So far as clothing went Cross Marian didn't seem as different as Allen or Miranda had; it just looked like his cloak had grown a few feet in length and then morphed into something like the tail-end of a caterpillar, hiding his feet from view. He looked absolutely absurd. "I'm your idiot apprentice, Allen Walker."

"What do you mean by that?" the Caterpillar-Cross asked sternly. "You couldn't possibly be any apprentice of mine, for I would never take an idiot for an apprentice. Explain yourself."

"Well—I'm not actually—an idiot, I mean—that's just what you call me, you see," Allen quickly explained. He had no idea if this Cross was real, because his attitude was exactly like that of his actual master. For all he knew Cross might have actually remembered him, and was just being a bastard, as he was wont to do.

"I don't see," Caterpillar-Cross said.

"I'm afraid I can't put it more clearly," Allen replied. "I'm your idiot apprentice who is not actually an idiot but is in fact your apprentice." He sighed. "Oh, this all becoming intolerable. First getting trapped, then Miranda in that outfit, and with all this size-changing, the day really has become quite confusing."

"It isn't," the Caterpillar-Cross said. "You are not my apprentice, but you most certainly _are_ an idiot, and so it only seems so to you." He puffed on his hookah, and Allen fumed below him. Whether his master was jerking him around on purpose or really didn't know him Allen wasn't sure, but it was painfully clear that either way Cross Marian was a complete ass.

"Well, it's all very queer to _me_," he said, hands on his hips and feeling suddenly like a stamping his foot like a preteen girl.

"You!" said the Caterpillar-Cross contemptuously. "Who are _you_?"

And thus they had come full circle. Growing ever more infuriated with Cross's ever shorter remarks—if he was indeed Cross, and if he wasn't he did a fine impression—Allen crossed his arms, furrowed his brow and threw his "master" the dirtiest look he could muster. "I think you ought to tell me who _you_ are, first."

"Why?" said the Caterpillar-Cross, and as he said this a cloud of pink smoke in the shape of a "y" came floating out of his mouth. Allen could think of no good reason to give (since he did technically already know him) and finding Cross to be in an unpleasant state to talk to, he turned and walked away.

"Wait!" he called. "I've something important to say!"

This sounded promising, so begrudgingly Allen turned back and approached the mushroom again.

"Keep your temper," Caterpillar-Cross said. Allen balked, and had to resist the urge to punch the mushroom in anger.

"Is that all?!" he demanded, not keeping his temper at all.

"No," he said, and proceeded to smoke from his hookah for quite a time. Allen, deciding it better to curb his temper as he'd been told sat and waited very patiently for his master to say something else. For some minutes he sat and puffed away without speaking, but at last he unfolded his arms, took the hookah out of his mouth, and said, "So you think you're my apprentice, do you?"

"I'm afraid I am, Master," said Allen. "Only it doesn't seem as if you remember me, and nor does anyone else. I've seen Miranda several times, but she only runs away when she sees me, and now it doesn't appear that you know me either."

"Know _what _about you?" said the Caterpillar-Cross.

"Well, I've tried to tell you both my name, but neither of you recalls me at all!" Allen said hotly, as this was becoming old very quickly.

"Allen Walker could be anyone," Caterpillar-Cross said. "But the question is, _who are you_?" At last Allen understood what Cross meant, and when it dawned in Allen's eyes Caterpillar-Cross nodded obligingly. "Now, recite," he said, and before Allen there appeared a tiny piano, just the right size for him. He looked at the red-headed man with puzzled eyes, and then placed his hands on the keys and did what only _he_ could do. He played and played, until his wrists ached from behind held aloft, and when Caterpillar-Cross motioned for him to stop he sighed with relief.

"That is not played right," he said, but he was smirking.

"Not _quite_ right, I'm afraid," Allen agreed with a grin. "Some of the notes were altered."

"It was wrong from beginning to end," said Caterpillar-Cross decidedly, and there was silence for some minutes.

Cross was the first to speak. "What size do you want to be?" he asked.

"I'm not particular, but I'd prefer to be the height I was before. All this switching is wearing thin, you know."

"I _don't_ know," he said, and Allen said nothing. He'd never been so contradicted by anyone in his entire life, and this was enough to affirm him that the person he was talking to really was indeed his black-hearted master Cross Marian.

"Are you content now?" he asked, sensing Allen's ease.

"I still wouldn't mind being a _little_ larger," Allen said. "Three feet is such a dreadful height to be."

"It is a very good height indeed, idiot apprentice!" said Cross angrily, for as a caterpillar he was exactly three feet high.

"But I'm not used to it," Allen pleaded. Kanda would beg to differ that Allen was any higher than three feet, and once again Allen fervently wondered as to what had happened to the other Exorcists.

"You'll get used to it in time," Cross said, and he put his hookah back into his mouth and began to smoke once more. This time Allen was a bit more impatient, but he waited nonetheless for Cross to speak. In a minute or two Cross took the hookah out of his mouth, and to Allen's astonishment it had become one of his customary cigarettes. After yawning once or twice Cross sat up off the mushroom and tore the bottom of his robe to reveal his legs, and once he was on them he began to walk away into the grass, merely remarking as he went, "One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter."

"The other sides of _what_," Allen questioned, and Cross came back, snatching Allen by the collar.

"The mushroom, idiot apprentice!" he roared, as if this should have been plain for even someone as simple as Allen to see. With that he dropped Allen to the ground and turned away.

"Master, wait! Tell me, how did you come to be here? Were you brought down the rabbit hole as well?" Cross stopped and cocked an eyebrow at Allen, looking thoroughly off-put.

"Actually, I came through the Looking Glass," he said. "And you should know better than anyone that I can be brought no where." In another moment he was out of sight. Allen climbed to his feet, brushing himself off, griping under his breath.

"People come and go so quickly here," he complained. But there was no time to spare for that, not even time enough to contemplate what a "looking glass" was. He needed to get to his right height straight away, and go after Miranda. Road's grotesque display proved she was cruel as ever, and that meant that they were all in danger.

Standing against the mushroom, as best as he could, Allen tore a chunk of it from each opposite side. "But which one will make me grow, and which will make me shrink?" It took Allen a very long time to get back to normal (whatever that was, in a place like this), but by the time he had he'd learned that the right would make him grow smaller, and the left would make him grow taller. The first bite of the left had sent him skyrocketing above the trees, and a terrified bird had shielded it's eggs from him, shrieking "_Akuma! Akuma! AKU-MAAA!_", no matter what he did to console her that he was most definitely not an akuma. After working his arm out of a nasty branch he managed to nibble some of right bit until he was closer to only twelve feet, and from there on it had been a lick here, and lick there until he found himself to be just a bit over five feet, and he heaved an enormous sigh of pleasure. It did take some time to get used to it again, but by the time he was far enough away from the mushroom so that he could no longer see it he felt a hundred times better.

"Now," he thought, "I have to find Miranda and the others." He spotted tiny paw prints and carefully stepped behind them, tracking them back through the woods down a new path, one that hopefully would yield a clue as to what had befallen the rest of his friends.


	4. Chapter 4

Allen in Wonderland: Duchess Lenalee

It wasn't too long after that Allen finally found another, but it was in a very unusual setting that he found them. A darling house, maybe three stories and quite lavished, with a frog akuma guarding the entrance was what Allen found, and something stirred in him. This was it—someone was here. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he would have bet his life on it.

Just then his eye stung, and glancing a ways to his left Allen saw another akuma—dressed in livery, of all things—exiting the woods carrying a playing card nearly as large as it was. It walked up to the frog akuma at the door and handed it the card.

"For the Duchess. An invitation from the Queen to play croquet." The akuma in livery who had delivered the invitation was a fish akuma, so it was a little difficult to understand him.

"For the Duchess. An invitation from the Queen to play croquet," the frog akuma repeated dumbly. They bowed to each other and the fish akuma turned and padded away back into the woods. Allen watched his progress, and when he was gone he crept up to the door, hiding behind bushes and trees as he went. He had no idea what he would do if the akuma decided to attack—his Innocence wasn't activating, and he had no other way to fight, should it choose to make a meal out of him. Logic said it was suicide, but logic didn't always apply here, especially not with Road. She wasn't going to let a pathetic level two akuma kill him. Hoping he was correct, Allen strode to the door where the frog akuma was sitting on the stoop staring stupidly up at the sky. He didn't react at all to Allen, so Allen reached for the door handle to go in. It didn't move—the door was locked. He raised his hand to knock.

"There's no sort of use in knocking," the akuma said, "that's for two reasons. One is that they'll never let you in. The second is that the door only opens when someone knocks, and that's only if someone will let them in, and since they won't let you in then there's no sort of use in your knocking." He said this all while staring up at the sky, his huge eyes never blinking. Allen regarded him carefully, still not sure if he was a threat or not.

"Then," said Allen, "how am I to get in?"

"There might be some sense in your knocking," he said, "if you were allowed inside. But since you aren't, I suppose you'll have to wait until the Duchess comes out later to play croquet."

"How can she come out to play if her invitation is out here?" Allen demanded.

"She'll come out for it, I suppose," the akuma replied, still gaping upward. Allen decided not to point out that she'd have no idea about her invitation or having to come out with the card sitting on the stoop unseen, and he was about to ditch the house completely since it was obvious he was going nowhere when he actually looked at the invitation. It was a two of Hearts, and black ink scrawled out "Lenalee" in huge splotchy drops the front. Lenalee was the Duchess!

Allen began pounding his fists against the door, oblivious of what the frog akuma was saying. He kicked and punched and beat his arms on the wooden door, ready to tear it down with his bare hands if need be, when all of a sudden it opened on it's own, and a large plate came skimming out, flying straight at the frog akuma's head. It only grazed his nose before shattering somewhere in the trees, and he kept on talking as if it had never happened.

"How am I to get in?" Allen asked in a louder tone.

"_Are_ you to get in at all?" the frog akuma said severely, looking at Allen for the first time. "That's the first question, you know." There was no doubt about that. The door was open now, hanging calmly on its hinges, swinging in the breeze. Any moment a good gust could come along and blow it shut.

"But what am _I_ to do?" Allen asked desperately, suddenly more afraid than he'd been upon discovering the remains of the Caucus-race and the White Rabbit's house. He was terrified that he'd walk inside and find Lenalee hung up with a rope, lynched, with a stake driven through her heart. He was sure Road wasn't going to kill him, not yet anyway, but that left little to no bearing over what might befall the other Exorcists.

"Anything you like," the akuma said gravely, and then began to whistle. Allen frowned, and put his left hand on the door, holding it open so it couldn't close. Anything he liked? What was that supposed to mean? That he was free to do whatever he wanted in this insane dream world, or was he only hearing a programmed response to fit with Road's design of _Wonderland_?

"He's perfectly idiotic," Allen said bitterly, and opened the door and went in.

The door lead directly into an enormous kitchen, and to Allen's infinite relief he saw Lenalee (at least, he hoped her to be Lenalee) perfectly unharmed. She was sitting on a stool, tending to a baby, while a dowdy female akuma was making soup behind her, throwing things angrily about and putting far too much pepper into the soup. She was using so much pepper it was in the air making all of them sneeze, even the baby, when it wasn't wailing. The only one not sneezing was—and at this moment Allen was sure he might faint—the Millennium Earl, who appeared to be a cat in this reality, striped in purple and pink, two cat ears protruding from his fluffy hat and a long tail protruding from the seat of his pants, twitching every few seconds. He was sitting by the hearth, grinning ear to ear.

"What's wrong with your cat?" asked Allen, not really knowing what else to say. He wasn't sure if this was the real Earl, or a clever imitation of Road's to frighten him. "Why does it grin like that?"

"It's a Cheshire Earl," said Duchess Lenalee, who didn't appear to recognize Allen at all, "that's why. Golem." She said the last first with such sudden violence that Allen jumped; but he saw in another moment that she was referring to the baby. Startled, Allen went on again:

"I didn't know Earls grinned," he said.

"They all can," said Duchess Lenalee, "and most of them do."

"I only know one who does, but I don't know what he'd be doing here." He directed this statement to the Cheshire Earl, who eyed him with some sort of grim delight he didn't care for at all.

"You don't know much," said Duchess Lenalee with a very strange smile, "and that's a fact." Allen blinked twice, gazing at Lenalee with confusion. For a single moment it looked as if she _had_ recognized him. While he was trying to figure out what he'd seen the cook akuma took the pot of soup off the stove and at once set to work on throwing everything in her reach at Lenalee and the baby. Lenalee didn't take notice of any of this, not even when a large metal prong struck her in the forehead and a stream of blood dripped down the side of her face.

Immediately Allen leaped in the way, getting struck with tongs, a pepper shaker, a sieve and (luckily) the handle end of a meat cleaver.

"Stop that!" cried Allen, knocking things out of the way as they flew at him. "Lenalee!" he gasped when a knife narrowly missed her face, burying itself into the wall instead, followed by an unusually large saucepan that very nearly hit the baby right on the nose.

"If everyone stopped what they were doing," said Duchess Lenalee in a very submissive voice, "then the world would go around much faster than it does."

"Which would _not_ be an advantage," said Allen softly when the cook had stopped hurling things. He got down on his knees next to Lenalee, and used the corner of his sleeve to wipe the blood from her forehead. Lenalee didn't say anything in reply—she only flinched when the coarse material of his shirt scraped her wound. "Just think about how everything would go then," he said, wanting greatly for her to talk again. "What with the world spinning on the axis the way it does—"

"Talking of axes," Duchess Lenalee said suddenly, "chop off his hand!" Allen glanced up sharply to see if the cook akuma had taken the hint, but she had returned to stirring the soup, and seemed not to be listening, so Allen continued: "Twenty-four hours all around, and if that got any shorter than Komui would _never_ get his paperwork done, and—"

"Oh, don't bother _me_!" Lenalee bit angrily, her cheeks flushed. She was glaring at Allen, and he swore he saw tears in her eyes at the mention of her older brother. "I never could abide figures." And with that she began to sing a lullaby to the child, a soft one, completely different from the horrid one the Duchess in _Wonderland_ really sang. Allen thought of what the frog akuma had said about doing anything you wished, and he suddenly considered grabbing Lenalee and fleeing right then and there. He could grab her by the arm and pull her out—they'd be gone before anyone could stop them. But, then again, who was to say what happened in Road's world when you went against her? Maybe she wanted Lenalee right where she was, and if Allen tried to take her she'd be killed by a horde of waiting akuma just outside that had amassed in his absence.

"Here, you may nurse it, if you like," Lenalee said when her song had ended. She tossed the baby to Allen who barely caught it in time to keep from dropping it. "I have to go prepare to play croquet with the Queen of Hearts," and she hurried out of the room, the cook akuma following quickly after her with a frying pan that missed.

Allen stood there a moment, the baby struggling weakly in his arms. How had she known about the invitation? It had never been brought in. He might have pondered this longer, but the baby was flailing more and more impatiently. After wrapping it tightly Allen went outside again, struck by the clearness of the air after breathing pepper for so long.

"If I don't take it with me it's sure to die in there," he thought. "Wouldn't it be murder to leave it behind?" Thought it wasn't as if he could honestly go through the rest of his journey with an infant in tow, not one that screamed and flailed and he had no idea what to do with. It was becoming angrier looking, and its color was changing, though not to a red or purple that ought to be suitable for a baby when it cried. It was actually turning . . . _gold_. Its eyes were beginning to vanish, and its teeth were getting bigger and bigger, while it's arms and legs shrunk and shriveled up into itself. In no time at all the baby had appeared to curl up into nothing; Allen dropped the bundle of it's wrapping and wondered whether or not it had evaporated or shrunk as he had earlier.

"But what could have . . . ?"

A tiny figure, no bigger than a golf ball shot out of the bundle, tiny gold wings beating furiously. Allen's eyes grew huge, and he suddenly understood why Lenalee had so fiercely referred to the baby as "Golem."

"Tincampy!" he cried, elated. The Golden Golem whizzed about in the air joyously, and flew into Allen's waiting hands, where he held the whirring mechanical creature to his face, rubbing his cheek on it's cool gilded surface. "I thought I'd lost you! Oh, this is fantastic, now I won't be alone! Now, if only I knew which way Miranda had gone, and—"

Allen's voice was cut off by the arrival of the Millennium Earl, who was sitting on a bough of a tree a few yards off. The Earl only grinned when he saw Allen. Allen, on the other hand, took several steps back, and automatically he raised his hand, ready to invoke his Innocence even if he only just remembered he couldn't use it.

"Cheshire Earl," he said, addressing him by the title Lenalee had, hoping this Earl was a fake and not the real Earl at all, "which way ought I to walk from here?" It seemed a safe enough question, for he prayed that if he acted like he was completely ignorant of all that was going on, then maybe the Earl might not slaughter him there while he was defenseless. Then again, assuming this was the real Earl, was he participating in Road's scheme, and would he leave Allen unharmed at her request?

"That depends a great deal on where you want to get to," said the Cheshire Earl.

"I don't care where—" said Allen.

"Then it doesn't matter which way you walk," said the Earl.

"—so long as I can find my _friends_," Allen added hotly.

"Oh, you're sure to do that," said the Earl slyly, "if you only walk long enough." His voice sent chills down Allen's spine, and he wished he hadn't spoken at all. The Cheshire Earl was curling and uncurling his massive paws, his claws digging into the soft flesh on the bough beneath him, and his tail was twitching eagerly, like he longed to pounce upon Allen and devour him right there.

"What sort of people live here?" Allen asked at length, when the silence was becoming agonizing. He wasn't sure what he wanted to hear as an answer.

"In _that_ direction," the Earl said, waving his right paw round, "lives a Hatter: and in _that_ direction," waving the other paw, "lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they're both mad."

"I'd rather not be going amongst mad people," said Allen slowly, beginning to inch away from the tree. He had declared it an excellent time to depart; whoever the Hatter and Hare were, it was likely they were nowhere near as awful as the Millennium Earl.

"Oh, you can't help that," said the Earl, "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."

"How do you know I'm mad?" asked Allen, taking another step back. The Earl didn't appear to notice he was moving away, not yet as it was. He kept skidding back, inch by inch, and was vaguely aware of the sensation of Tincampy digging into his back, hidden beneath his shirt.

"You must be," said the Earl, "or you wouldn't be here."

Allen was making some distance. He was certain he could break into a run soon, and be down either path—Hatter or Hare—with enough of a head start to at least give himself a chance of escaping. "And how do you know that you're mad?"

"The methodical extermination of an entire race is mad. You grant that?"

Allen nodded his head silently, unable to speak.

"Well, I've been very carefully destroying each of your kind, Innocence-granted or not, for more than a thousand years. Therefore, I'm mad."

"I call it murdering, not destroying," Allen said vindictively when he at last found his courage.

"Call it what you like," said the Cheshire Earl. "Do you play croquet with the Queen to-day?"

"Yes," Allen said softly, feeling the card in his pocket.

"You'll see me there," said the Cheshire Earl with the largest grin yet, all his cruel teeth gleaming in the light. Then he vanished. Allen fell back on his bottom, heart pounding out of control behind his ribcage, sweat breaking out on his face and neck, his whole body trembling. He couldn't believe he'd just talked back to the Millennium Earl, for his explanation of personal madness made it evident to Allen that he had most definitely just argued with the one and only. He was still staring where the Earl had been, and he suddenly appeared again, nearly given Allen a heart palpitation.

"By-the-bye, what became of the baby?" said the Earl. "I'd nearly forgotten to ask."

"It turned into a golem," Allen said quietly, his fearlessness gone again.

"I thought it would," the Earl said mysteriously, and vanished again.

It was another ten minutes for Allen to recover from such a shock. He sat on the ground, holding a shivering Tincampy in his hand, shaking all over himself. When at last the fear dissipated Allen got unsteadily to his feet, placing Tincampy on the top of his head, where the golem had always felt most comfortable. He waited for the Earl to reappear, and to his great amazement (and terror) he did so only once more, on another tree branch as Allen had begun to walk toward the March Hare's home, reasoning that he'd seen Hatters before, and because it was May the Hare was probably less likely to be as mad as it might in March.

"Did you say golem or jabberwock?" he asked.

"I said golem," Allen replied, having no idea what a jabberwock was. Golem, to him, didn't even sound like jabberwock. "And could you stop coming and going like that?"

"All right," said the Earl with another odd grin, and he vanished slowly this time, starting with his tail and ending with his huge toothy grin, which remained in the air for several seconds longer than any other part of him had. Allen watched it go, and felt better when he could no longer see it.

He had not gone much farther when he finally arrived at the March Hare's house, and he knew it could be no other because the chimney was shaped like rabbit's ears and the roof was thatched with fur. Allen swallowed the lump growing in his throat, and patted Tincampy on his head, reassuring the tiny golem.

"With everything under Road's control, it'll probably be as mad as everything else," Allen said to himself, pushing open the gate to the garden. "I almost wish I'd gone the other way!"


	5. Chapter 5

Allen in Wonderland: A Mad Tea-Party

There was a great collection of steam over the garden, so it wasn't until Allen was right at the table beneath the tree that he got a look at the figures drinking tea. One, to Allen's relief, was Lavi, only it was hard to believe it was Lavi, since he had great big rabbit ears sticking out of his cherry-red hair. Allen surmised _him_ to be the March Hare of this world. The figure beside him, when Allen identified him, made him wonder what could have made him think that the Millennium Earl was the worst thing he'd encounter here.

Dressed in a floppy bow much to big for him and a top hat tagged with a ticket that read "In this Style, 10/6" was Tyki Mikk, the one Noah that Allen feared and despised more than even Road, while at the same time greatly wished as an ally. Allen brushed a hand over his sternum, remembering the feeling of Mikk's hand inside him, grasping his heart, and the slow, painful near-death he'd experienced when his Teez had eaten a hole in his heart. Yes, he and Mikk had some history, going back even to the day of their poker game. That was how he preferred to recall him, with his swirl glasses, stubble, and too-big clothes, not his hideous, twisted smile and insane laugh.

He was laughing now, over some private joke with Lavi. Both of them were bent over Skinn Boric, who had large mouse ears in his hair, and whiskers from his cheeks. He appeared to be asleep, and Tyki and Lavi were using him as a cushion. Allen wondered why they'd do such a thing, and took a few steps closer. A twig snapped under his shoe, and all laughter stopped.

"No room!" Lavi said immediately, and Allen saw he had his own Innocence with him, the Hammer not invoked but massive nonetheless while he waved it around. "No room!" Allen ducked one blow that nearly took his head off, and crushed instead an empty teapot, turning it to little ceramic pieces.

"There's plenty of room!" Allen all but screamed, hiding in a large red armchair when Lavi swung at him again. He heard the scraping of a chair, and looking up over the lip of the table showed him that Lavi had sat back down.

"Have some wine," said March-Lavi encouragingly. Allen scanned the table; there was nothing but tea.

"I don't see any wine," he remarked, but not unkindly, because Lavi's hand was still on the grip of his Hammer.

"There isn't any," March-Lavi said.

"Then it wasn't very civil of you to offer any," Allen said. His eyes were trailing away from Lavi to the multitude of scones, muffins, and cakes on the table. The EAT ME cake and mushroom pieces felt years ago.

"It wasn't very civil of you to sit down without being invited," March-lavi pointed, indicating the chair Allen currently occupied. Allen scowled, and chose not to point out that he'd only sat down because he'd come close to having his skull fractured.

"Your hair is strange," said Tyki. He had been looking at Allen for a long time now, and this was his first speech. Allen locked gazes with him, gray and gold meeting. There was no question—Tyki knew him. It was becoming apparent that only Allen's comrades didn't know him. Cross of course didn't count in this, since Allen hardly considered him a comrade.

"You skin is strange," Allen replied. Noah, for some reason, had skin with a gray color, so dark it might have been smeared on ash.

Tyki opened his eyes very wide at this, and for a brief second anger rippled in his gold irises, but all he _said_ was: "Why is a raven like a writing-desk?" Allen was taken-aback—he had no idea why a raven was like a writing-desk, but what was more puzzling was why Tyki would ask him something so ridiculous. The thought came to him that maybe, even if they kept their wits, the Noah and the Earl still had to play along with Road's game, likely to humor her, because at that moment Tyki probably would have rather torn out Allen's vocal cords than ask him a riddle.

"I believe I can guess that," said Allen after a moment or two, and this was of course a complete lie, but he wasn't really sure about how to go about doing anything in this reality.

"Do you mean that you think you know the answer to it?" March-Lavi inquired, nibbling on the corner of a particularly delicious looking pastry. Allen's stomach growled so loudly he clapped a hand over his belly to try to silence it.

"Yes, something like that," Allen murmured, reaching for a scone, waiting to see if he would be stopped.

"Then you should say what you mean," March-Lavi went on, stuffing the rest of the dessert into his mouth.

"I do," Allen insisted, snatching a scone from the plate in front of him when it looked like Tyki might have made to grab his wrist. "At least I mean what I say, that's the same thing, isn't it?"

"Not the same thing at all!" said Tyki with uncharacteristic feeling, and he rapped a hand on the table, making it shudder and all the tea cups upon it rattle. "Why, you might just as well say that 'I see what I kill' is the same thing as 'I kill what I see'!"

"You might as well say," added March-Lavi, "that 'I like what I smash' is the same thing as 'I smash what I like'!"

"You might just as well say," added Doormouse-Skinn suddenly from his place on the table, "that 'I breathe when I eat' is the same thing as 'I eat when I breathe'."

"It _is_ the same thing with you," Tyki said boredly, and the conversation was dropped, and everyone was silent for a minute. Allen took this opportunity to scarf down the scone, and grab another while Tyki was observing the quality of his gloves for stains. He was the first to break the silence.

"What day of the month is it?" he asked, turning to Allen: he had taken his watch out of his pocket and was looking at it uneasily, shaking it, holding it to his ear, and prodding it with the tip of his finger, which vanished into the minute machinery.

"The fourth," Allen said, not knowing if that was still the date outside of the dream world. He had no idea if the passage of time here applied to it anywhere else.

"Two days wrong," sighed Tyki. "I told you butter wouldn't suit the works!" he added, looking furiously at March-Lavi.

"It was the _best_ butter," March-Lavi meekly replied, cowering behind his Hammer, nibbling on another pastry, even as he trembled in justifiable fear.

"Yes, but some crumbs must have got in as well," Tyki grumbled: "you shouldn't have put it in with your Hammer." March-Lavi took the watch timidly, and looked at it gloomily: then he dipped it into his cup of tea and, looked at it again: but he could think of nothing better to say than his earlier statement of "It was the _best_ butter, you know."

There was more silence while Tyki fiddled with his watch and Lavi ate more and more of the various treats spread out around him. Doormouse-Skinn had fallen asleep again, and was just beginning to snore loudly when Tyki poured a cup of scalding hot tea on his face to wake him up. It had little to no discernable effect, except that he grunted and his nose twitched, his whiskers fidgeting with it, and he mumbled something about sweets.

"Have you guessed the riddle yet?" Tyki asked Allen impatiently, his question more a huff than anything. He looked like he could have cared less about the riddle; in fact, he looked like an actor reading lines to a play he has either done many times or has never liked very much.

"No, I give up," Allen said hastily. "What's the answer?" He was just as eager for this farce to end—the longer he was here the further Miranda went, even if it appeared he was no longer supposed to be following her.

"I haven't the slightest idea," Tyki said gratefully.

"Nor I," March-Lavi chimed in. "You think we'd have something better to do with our time than think up riddles with no answers."

"If you knew time as well as I do," Tyki said, "you wouldn't talk about wasting _it_. It's _him_."

"I don't know what you mean," Allen said slowly, but it was dawning on him that he did know what Tyki meant. He was thinking back to something Bookman had said, about how the Millennium Earl represented 'time'.

"Of course you do!" Tyki said, tossing his head contemptuously, glaring at Allen with all the liquid hate of an enemy. "I daresay you've spoken to him enough!"

"Perhaps so," Allen replied cooly, "but I'm better at _beating_ time. When I play music," he added with an innocent smile. Tyki's eyes grew wide again, and this time he smashed the cup in his hand, crushing it into slivers. He growled lowly, and removed the glove, now soaked through with tea, and blood from his hand. The cuts healed instantly, and he tugged a new glove on, still looking at Allen murderously.

"That accounts for it," he said acidly. "He won't stand for beating. If only you'd kept on good terms with him, he'd do anything you like."

"That would be grand, certainly," Allen grinned, staring back at Tyki powerfully, daring him to make a move. He could tell now that Tyki had been given specific orders by Road not to hurt him; hence the broken cup. "But then," he went on, "I shouldn't have a want for it by then."

"Not at first, perhaps," Tyki said, his eyes razor-sharp slits. "But you could keep it as long as you liked."

"Is that how _you_ manage?" he asked, smirking dangerously. It wasn't wise to taunt a Noah, not Tyki Mikk, for he had a temper almost as terrible as Skinn's, but how many chances would he get to do so?

"Not I," Tyki admitted with a mournful note, so unlike himself, even if his eyes were still aflame, boring into Allen's. "I . . . I was at a . . . concert of the Queen's," he said slowly. "And I did something that upset her very much. She said I murdered time, though it was definitely not time I murdered." He was smiling again, and his hand was clenching and unclenched with unspoken, deadly desire. "Since then, he won't do a thing I say. To him, it is a sin for which I must be punished." He gestured to the table vaguely, now quite bored. "Now it's always like this. Always 'tea-time'."

"We just move around, as things get used up," March-lavi explained, though his voice was airy and strange. He was staring at Allen curiously, like one who is certain they know someone, but can't place where.

"But when you come to the beginning again?" Allen asked quietly, leaning toward Lavi. Only one eye was visible, but it was all that was needed. Lavi didn't know him; not yet, not all the way. But something was bouncing around in that head of his, something trying its hardest to remind him _why_ that person looked so familiar.

"Suppose we change the subject," March-Lavi said softly, his eye not leaving Allen's. "I'm getting . . . I'm tired."

"I want a clean cup," interrupted Tyki, "move down." Everyone stood, changing seats, until Doormouse-Skinn was in Tyki's place, Allen was in March-Lavi's place, March-Lavi was in Tyki's place, and only Tyki benefitted from the switch with a new seat, and did not hesitate to pour himself a fresh cup.

"Take some more tea," March-Lavi said, shoving a china cup and saucer into Allen's hands.

"I've had nothing yet," Allen said, blinking at Lavi in confusion, "so I can't have more." The red-head had suddenly grown incredibly anxious, and he was sitting on the very edge of his seat, trembling horribly.

"You mean, you can't take _less_," said Tyki: "it's very easy to take _more_ than nothing."

"Nobody asked _your_ opinion!" Lavi suddenly burst out, and he leapt up on the table, crunching a fine plate under his heel. "And I certainly can't take any more of _this_!" And without warning, no time for anyone to react, Lavi swung his Hammer down and cracked Tyki on the head with it. There was a sickening crunch noise and blood sprayed out of his ears; he uttered only a choked syllable none of them understood and then collapsed in a heap on the grass.

Allen looked from Tyki to Lavi in astonishment, and then at Skinn—mercifully he was still asleep. Allen opened his mouth to say something, but then Lavi was off the table and had his arm in a vice grip. "How's that for a change of subject?" he asked roguishly, even if he'd gone milk-pale. "Now come on, before he gets back up."

They raced away from the table, running as fast and as hard as they could, their breath heavy and their pace erratic. At last they came to a door, and Lavi wretched it open at once, flinging Allen inside and following in behind him.

It was the odd hall he'd been in before. The glass table was still there, along with the key, and the little ill-tempered door. Allen sat down to rest, and Lavi did the same, leaning against his Hammer for support.

"You remembered," Allen said eventually, when it was easier to breathe. "How . . .?"

"This," Lavi said. He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and removed a card. It was the three of Hearts, and his name was scrawled across the front in splotchy black ink. "I found it under one of the pastries, and hid it away while you and Tyki were having that stare-down. It wasn't until I got a good look at you that I really knew, though. When I saw your curse-mark, all of it clicked. My Innocence was like this when I passed out, so I guess that saved us, huh? If it was completely inactivated then . . ." His sentence hung in the air, and carried with it a dark promise.

"We should go," Allen said after a while. "Who knows, he might follow us here." He took the key off the table and gave it to Lavi to hold while he dished out the proper measurements of mushroom. Lavi ate his without question, and in a few minutes they were both a foot or so high.

"Where are we going?" Lavi asked. His Hammer had, incredibly, shrunk along with him, and he hefted it over his shoulder, balancing the key with his other hand.

"To the Queen's, to play croquet," Allen said with a weird sort of grin. Lavi raised his one visible eyebrow in question.

"Why?" he asked. He still had rabbit ears, and they perked in readiness. Allen tried not to laugh, at that or the fluffy tail he'd just noticed sticking out of the back of Lavi's pants.

"Because if the Queen is who I think she is, then that's where we need to go to end this dream. And I have a feeling that the palace is where the rest of our friends are." He briefly told of Miranda and Lenalee, and Lavi's brow furrowed in worry.

"That leaves Kanda, and possibly Krory," he said.

"Krory?" he said, "why Krory? He didn't come with us."

"No, but after you left I received a message on my golem from Komui. He said Krory was traveling through our area returning from another mission, and that we should try to meet up with him. I never saw him, but we can't count it out that Road might have dragged him into this, too."

Allen was suddenly glad that it be Lavi who he met with. Of the others, he was the most resourceful, and so far had proved reliable. Who else, with an inactive Innocence, would attack a Noah literally head-on? He wanted to tell Lavi this, but put it aside. He made himself believe there would be time to do so later.

"Come on," he said. "Miranda and Lenalee, if I'm right, should both be headed for the Queen's now. Miranda said she worked for the Duchess, and since Lenalee went to play croquet, we ought to meet them in the garden." He shivered, thinking of how the Earl had promised his attendance there as well, and pushed the door open at last, and the two Exorcists found themselves in the beautiful garden, among the bright flowerbeds and the cool fountains, and the evil inhuman enemies.


	6. Chapter 6

Allen in Wonderland: A Chance Meeting

Once into the garden, it was obvious there was no getting out, nor any easy way through. The second they were through the door it shut smartly, and a long series of sharp-looking thorns threw themselves over it, braiding around one another, twisting into thick ropes. Roses bloomed from the vine-like ropes, and soon a plethora of red and pink closed the way behind.

"I suppose we're going forward, then," Lavi said casually, but he was grim in the set of his mouth, even if it was flipped up in a grin.

"Yes, but which way?" Allen pointed ahead—there were two paths further along. Before he could even suggest to spilt up Lavi raised a hand to silence him.

"Not on your life, beansprout. We only just got together, there's no way we're veering off again. Besides, I'm older, and I say we stick close." Allen tried not to grin, and failed. What did age have to do with anything? But Lavi _was_ right, it would be stupid to separate.

"Then I hope you have a coin to flip at the fork ahead, because I'm terrible at choosing directions, especially from two options."

"I always get lost in a new place," Lavi sorrowfully confirmed. "We could _ro-sham-bo_, if it's that impossible." But rock-paper-scissors was never required, for when they reached the fork after struggling through a heavy bramble there were already two people standing there, as if they too were trying to decide which way to go. Both were garbed in shades of green, their patterns inversed upon the other, along with black hearts embroidered on their shoulders. Getting closer, the first thing Allen discerned about them was that the one on the left had the blondest hair he'd ever seen. Then he noticed they were boys, and the exact same stature.

"Oh no," he murmured, and beside him Lavi tensed.

Pivoting smoothly, the blonde observed Allen at length, and then tapped the other on the arm. He turned, and hair like obsidian hung all in his eyes—he had to push it aside to see properly.

Jasdero and Devitto, the twin brothers of the Noah, were standing and blinking at them, honestly perplexed. Jasdero looked at Devitto with confusion, and Devitto shrugged, as if to say _I don't know, either_. Jasdero opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly silenced by Lavi smashing him in the face with his Innocence, and the skinny boy went flying into the hedges that made the walls of Road's garden labyrinth. Devitto gaped, and ran to fetch his brother before Lavi could hit him, too. Lavi made as if to chase them, but Allen stopped him, grabbing his Hammer arm.

"Wait!" he hissed, dragging him back.

"Wait? Why?!"

"I've been at this all day," said Allen quickly, "and there are certain rules! They have a part to play, or else they wouldn't be here! Did you see the way they looked at us? I think your being here messed them up, because they were only expecting me. Now come on, put that thing down; Tyki didn't kill me when he had the chance, and neither did the Earl. Besides, they probably have to tell us what to do next."

"You've begun wrong!" Devitto snarled from the hedges as he helped Jasdero up. Blood gushed from the blonde's pulped lips and nose until they healed. He spit out a few teeth that promptly regrew, and then frowned at his stained and ruined shirt.

"The first thing in a visit is to say 'How d'ye do?' and shake hands!" Jasdero whined reproachfully, righting himself and tugging twigs from his beloved hair. "Not bash someone up-side the face! Honestly, who taught you your manners?" Lavi, a little taken-aback, smiled nervously and shrugged lamely in apology. Jasdero and Devitto held out their hands to be shaken: Lavi leapt back like they had the plague, but Allen politely shook with both, crossing his arms across his front so he could shake both their hands at once, so that the other wouldn't be offended.

Then they let go of Allen's hands, and stood looking at him for a minute: there was a rather awkward pause, as Allen had no idea what he was required to say to people who were usually engaged in the occupation of trying to kill him.

Allen wasn't aware of it (as he had never read the second _Alice_ book), but Road was not very fond of Tweedledum and Tweedledee from _Through the Looking-Glass_, and was not altogether fond of that second book anyhow. She had only given Jasdero and Devitto their assigned parts because she knew not what else to do with them, since they were twins and Lewis Carroll already provided twins in the story. It seemed natural to make them those parts, but their entire role she found deplorable, so it was left up to them completely to fulfill their repatriation.

"Do you know which way to go?" asked Allen at last, when the silence was becoming horribly suffocating. "We're trying to get to the Queen, but we don't know which way to take."

"I'd say the Queen's way," said Jasdero.

"Contrariwise," said Devitto, "you could always go the Queen's way."

"How can both ways be the Queen's way?" Lavi questioned hotly, his fist tightening on his Hammer. Already his patience was wearing thin.

"Because every way is the Queen's way," they said in unison, and fell into a fit of raucous giggling that failed to cease for five minutes. Allen and Lavi exchanged looks.

"I know what you're thinking about," said Devitto suddenly: "but it isn't so, nohow."

"Contrariwise," continued Jasdero, "if it was so, it might be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic."

"I was thinking," said Allen calmly, "about which path to go down to get to the Queen. Would you tell me?" But the Noah only looked at each other and grinned secret, malicious grins. Lavi, utterly fed-up at this point, grabbed Allen by the shoulder.

"We can find the way ourselves," he said, and tugged Allen along. Jasdero and Devitto stepped obligingly out of their way, though they both gave very sly, unpleasant smiles to the passing Exorcists.

"She's dreaming now," Jasdero suddenly called out as they began to head down the path to the left. Lavi didn't seem inclined to stop, but Allen knew they wouldn't have spoken at all if it wasn't something he was supposed to hear. He ground his heels and Lavi let go abruptly, and balked when Allen ran back to the two gray-skinned boys. "And what do you think she's dreaming about?" There was no doubt he was speaking of Road, the very Dream of Noah.

Allen said "Nobody can guess that."

"Why, about _you_!" Jasdero exclaimed excitedly, clapping his hands. "And if she left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be?"

"Where I am now, of course," Allen said, but he knew it wasn't so. He had no idea where he would be when and if Road ceased her dreaming.

"Not you!" Jasdero replied contemptuously, and out of habit he snatched up Devitto's arm and clung to him. "You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in her dream!"

"If she were to wake," added Devitto smartly as he fiddled with Jasdero's gold hair, "you'd go out—bang!—just like a . . . a _candle_." His emphasis was not wasted on Allen, and he shuddered, thinking of the Caucus race animals, all similarly staked and swaying in their nooses.

"I shouldn't," Allen retorted indignantly, and he meant to shout it at them, but it came out a choked whisper. "Besides, if _I'm_ only a sort of thing in her dream, what are _you_, I should like to know?" He'd meant to corner them logistically or at least get them to confess Road's game, but again his words were greeted with haughty grins.

"Ditto," said Devitto cooly, and he'd drawn his signature golden gun from inside his jacket.

"Ditto, ditto!" cried Jasdero rapturously, and his gun too was glimmering in the sun. He shouted this so loudly it was Allen's natural response to tell him to 'hush.'

"You'll be waking her," he said solemnly. Lavi was at his side again, his Hammer raised at shoulder level now that he saw the Noah's tools of destruction out and at the ready.

"Well, it's no use _your_ talking about waking her," said Devitto with a laugh, "when you're only one of the things in her dream." He pointed his gun directly at Allen's head. "You know very well you're not real." He fired without warning, and instead of one of their trademark, over the top giant bullets of some silly element or another all that came out was an arrow, the head shaped like a black heart. Allen caught it in his real hand, the razor edge of the arrow slicing his palm.

"I _am_ real," Allen affirmed, and began to bleed.

"You won't make yourself a bit realer by bleeding," Jasdero remarked: "there's nothing to bleed about." Allen couldn't have thought of a statement that made less sense that than one did, but he found himself laughing at the sheer ludicrousness of it.

"If I wasn't real," Allen said, still laughing, "I shouldn't be able to bleed."

"I hope you don't suppose that's real blood?" Jasdero interrupted with a tone of great contempt. Allen peered down at his hand, and dropped the arrow to the grass. The cut was gone as if it had never been. Lavi gave him his handkerchief, and he wiped the blood away.

"At any rate, we need to be getting on to the palace," Allen said with a note of cheer that made Lavi blink at him in surprise. He looked up into the sky; it was getting dark, the first change he'd seen since he'd arrived. Staring at the bloody kerchief he said: "Do you think it's going to rain?" Jasdero and Devitto were looking where he was, and for a brief moment their eyes all met, and an understanding was passed between them.

The brothers both stopped to look at one another, and in an instant an umbrella appeared, popping up between them. Devitto took it by the handle and put his arm around Jasdero, drawing him close. "No, I don't think it is," he said: "at least—not under _here_. Nohow." He said this last word with uncharacteristic conviction, and his grip around Jasdero tightened just slightly.

"But it may rain outside," Allen pointed out, and he gestured shallowly at Lavi, who didn't appear to notice. The Noah peered at Lavi and Allen, their gazes cold and withdrawn. It seemed that whatever happened to the Exorcists was none of their business.

"It may—if it chooses," said Jasdero quietly, and he buried his face in Devitto's shirt. "We've no objection. Contrariwise." Like Devitto he said this last word with conviction, and the two brothers turned and walked away. Allen stood there a moment longer, wondering what Jasdero's final 'contrariwise' had meant. Did he mean that they _did_ object? Their gold eyes were so piercing, and yet so empty. It occurred to Allen that of all the Noah the brothers were the least concerned with whatever their family did, and rarely got involved. He was certain that if their Noah blood didn't urge them to kill and hate, they'd probably just live alone, separate from the world and all its problems.

Allen faced Lavi, who had rested his Hammer on the ground, no longer deeming it necessary. "We'll go this way, I guess," he said. They were still on the path they'd been about to take before, so it seemed no different to either of them. All of a sudden, Allen heard Devitto calling from down the way they'd come. The light was fading fast, but it was possible to see the brothers standing at the tiny door. Its vines had parted for them, and Devitto was holding the umbrella while Jasdero slipped inside.

"All ways are the Queen's ways!" he was shouting. "It doesn't much matter which way you go, you'll get to her. She doesn't want you to be late, nohow. Now hurry up—it's getting as dark as it can."

"And darker," said Jasdero gravely from the door way. Then the umbrella was folded and the door was shut behind them. Now hopefully alone, Allen and Lavi began anew down the path. While they went Lavi asked Allen what his plan was for when they met the Queen, for if she was Road as he suspected, what were they to do to fight her? Allen couldn't invoke his Innocence and Lavi's was only half-invoked. He couldn't even use his seals like this. Allen waved away his worries, though his own fear was obvious from the shake to his walk and the pallor of his face.

"Alice escaped the Queen in the end," said Allen, ducking a nasty looking branch that grew out of place from the rest of the hedge. The garden, like the sky, was getting darker and more foreboding as they went. "Road's changed the story, but not as much as she could. She likes this story quite a bit, I can tell. I'm hoping my intuition pays off."

"Your intuition?"

"Mm. If I'm right, Road can't change the ending. Alice can't die, and so hopefully neither can I." He glanced at his hand, where the cut had been. A shadow of the old blood remained in the creases of his palm, and he let them be, like some talisman for luck. "And I have no intention of letting her kill any of _you_, either."

Lavi's mouth twitched into a smirk, and he clapped Allen on the back. "Fine with me," he joked, "just so long as I can get rid of this tail! Sitting down really is a pain in the arse!" Their laughter, strained and not entirely real, kept them company down the long path, and just as Devitto had said, and the Earl had said, walking eventually got them where they wanted to go.


	7. Chapter 7

Allen in Wonderland: All Hail the Queen

The path stretched, stretched, and then abruptly ended, ejecting Allen and Lavi into a huge open courtyard, walled off with hedges twelve feet high and patterned astutely throughout with eldritch rose bushes the size of cherry trees, all trimmed into the shape of hearts.

No one was there. The silence was eery enough in such an open, vulnerable place, but eerier still were the rose trees (for they simply _had_ to be trees) with their oddly colored flowers. Once they had been white, but the discoloration proved they had been altered somehow, and now they were a pale reddish-brown. The shade was familiar: Allen reached up and rubbed a petal between his fingers, and the color flaked off into his palm. It was the same hue as the dried blood already stuck to his skin.

"Have to keep painting them," a voice croaked. Allen and Lavi leapt to the ready, but their opponent was only a small level one akuma, small like a child and infinitely old. It was holding a dirty paintbrush, and gestured with the tool to the trees feebly, tottering, nearly falling. "The color fades you see, so we have to keep painting them. The Queen likes them red she does, but it always dries brown an' then we have to paint them . . . again."

Allen swallowed hard, and decided not to ask where they got fresh paint. "The Queen—" he began, and the second he did the akuma raised a gnarled knuckle to its lips, as if to say _Shhhh_. Then it shambled to a marble bench where, out of sight, another two akuma had gathered. Huge playing cards were embroidered onto their shirts, and together they were Five, Seven, and Two of Spades. The old one who had spoken was the Two, and from the Five it took a plain tin paint can and shuffled listlessly to the nearest tree. The Seven brought a ladder from under the bench and together they began slathering something thick and iron smelling onto the already crusted roses.

Lavi bit his lip, and for the thousandth time glanced over his shoulder. His anxiety was plausible and infectious, and Allen strode to the akuma hastily.

"Would you tell me, please," said Allen warily, "_why_ you must paint the roses?"

Five and Seven said nothing, but looked at Two. Two began, in his dusty voice, "The fact is, you see, Sir, that this here ought to have been a _red_ rose-tree, and we put in a white one by mistake, and so the Queen forces us to re-paint it every day as punishment. The color never comes out right though, since we have to use our own blood." He tugged up his sleeve to reveal a long row of deep scabbed up lacerations. The others cards followed suit, each with their own share of scars. "Akuma blood ain't really the correct tone," he continued, "but we do our best, because if we don't the Queen— "

At this moment Lavi, who had been staring anxiously across the garden, whispered, "Oh my god," in a muffled voice, his words choked off by the hand covering his mouth. He might have said more, but any and all excess noise was suddenly cut-off by the sound of many footsteps, and Allen looked round, ready to face Road in whatever form she had chosen to take in this nonsense realm she'd made.

First came ten soldier akuma carrying clubs; they were all small like the gardeners but had to be level two or higher from the way Allen's eye stung: next the ten couriers; these were ornamented with diamonds, and walked two by two, like the soldiers. Next were the royal children, the most poisonously sweet akuma children Allen had ever seen, and they came skipping hand-in-hand, as couples: they were all ornamented with hearts. Next were guests, other Kings and Queens, and thankfully Allen didn't know any of them, but he saw Miranda, and thanked God she was still unharmed: she was talking in a hurried nervous manner, jumping at everything, and went by without noticing Allen.

Beside him Lavi started, grabbing Allen by the collar. "Over there!" he cried, and in the crowd there was a brief impression of black hair with a peculiar streak of white. It was Krory, and he was dressed as the Knave of Hearts, garbed in a ridiculous costume of gaudy hearts and tights, and he carried a crown on a velvet cushion in front of him.

"How . . .?" said Allen in a murmur, and Lavi reiterated what he predicted before about Krory coming to their location on his way back from his own mission. "So she caught him too," Allen sighed, and he clenched his fists tight enough to bite his nails into his palms. A burst of trumpets brought him back to attention, and at last came the person he had waited for, the black widow spider who had trapped them all in her web of malcontent fantasy.

Last of all in the grand procession came THE KING AND QUEEN OF HEARTS.

The Queen was undoubtably Road. Her costume was no longer that of a make-believe Alice, but instead a glorious Red Queen, wrapped neck to toe in royal crimson, black, and gold. A crown glittering and studded with rubies was situated on her head, and a scepter in the shape of a heart was in her hand. She swished it back and force constantly, swatting and ordering around everyone near her with it: including her King, and of all the people it could have been, Allen wasn't the least surprised.

Kanda. Dressed as sumptuously as Road he stood absurdly taller than she, and eyed all around him with his customary icy dislike. Allen might have thought him in his right mind, except that when Road struck him with her scepter across the cheek he made no move to avoid her and apologized for getting in her way—her excuse for striking him—and bowed his crown-less head, his long black hair contrasting darkly with the sheer white of the fur on his royal robe. It did not escape Allen's notice that his sword Mugen was belted at his side, the handle unmistakable protruding from his coat.

When the procession came opposite to Allen, they all stopped and looked at him (Lavi was quite overlooked) and Road said serenely, "Who . . . is . . . _this_?" She said it to Krory, who only cowered and ducked away from the sound of her voice. "Idiot!" said Road, smacking him on the face, tossing her head impatiently and, turning to Allen, she went on, "What is your name, _boy_?"

The use of Tyki's pet-name for him made Allen suspect she knew what had transpired at the disastrous tea-party. "You know my name, Road,"he said very politely but very cooly, meeting her loveless gold eyes with his grey, as if he might cancel her out that very second with only his will.

"And who are _these_?" she said to the three card akuma standing by the rose-tree, who appeared to be trying to blend into the foliage and failing miserably.

"How should I know?" said Allen, surprised by his own coldness. "It's no business of _mine_." Road turned red with fury, and, after glaring at him for a moment like a wild animal, began screaming, "Off with his _hand_! Off—"

"Nonsense!" said Allen, very loudly and decidedly, and Road observed him for a moment with curiously dissecting eyes, as if trying to discern where he'd gotten his fresh new courage from when he was staring death right in the face. Kanda approached her, and placed a hand upon her arm.

"Consider, my dear: he is only a child." His eyes found Allen's. "A _beansprout_, verily." Allen gaped—Kanda _was_ in his right state of mind! But before he could begin to absorb this new bit of information, Road turned angrily away from them both, and said to the Knave, "Go and get those cards. Bring them over here, now!"

Krory leapt to obey, and the three akuma were rounded up in a blink, each held at the scruff of their tiny necks by Krory's claws. "Look at me!" said Road in a shrill voice when they tried shut their eyes for the sight of her, and the three gardeners immediately looked up. Turning to the rose-tree, she went on, "What progress _have_ you made? These roses are every color _but_ red. It's like you deliberately disobeyed me!"

"May it please your majesty," said Two, in a very humble tone, "but the blood dries so very fast, and we can't bleed quick enough to keep them—"

"I see," said Road, who had been examining the roses while he spoke. "Off with their heads!"

A stunning thing happened. Or, in retrospect, it might well have been miraculous. At the time it was only shocking. Kanda stepped from his place at Road's side, pausing to kiss her waiting hand she'd offered girlishly, and drew his sword. Krory, straight-faced but pale held the akuma away from himself at arms length, and at once they all began to scream and flail save Two, who seemed reasonably content to die without a fight.

"Don't miss," Krory begged Kanda.

"I never miss," he shot back, and with a single swing of his blade cleaved off the heads of the three sad akuma. Their bodies dangled in their clothes from the place where Krory held them, and by the time their skulls thudded on the grass he'd released their shirts to let their sagging bodies join them. Kanda wiped the metallic blood from his sword on the hem of Five's trousers, and when Mugen was once again in its sheathe they returned to the group, and the procession continued.

"Are their heads off?" Road demanded of Krory and Kanda when they returned to her side.

"Their heads are off, if it please your majesty," both replied in unison.

"That's right," purred Road, petting the top of their heads affectionately. "Can you play croquet?" Kanda and Krory were silent, and Allen realized the question was evidently meant for him.

"Yes," said Allen, "and so can he." He indicated Lavi, who was just then beginning to inch behind the younger boy.

"Why are you doing this Al?" Lavi muttered hotly in his ear. "Why are you bringing me into this?"

"Come on then!" roared Road, and the Exorcists joined the procession with an unsteady gait, wondering very much if they were going to die.

"It's—It's a very fine day," said a timid voice beside Allen. It was Miranda, still dressed as the White Rabbit. But she'd changed since he'd seen her; the hysteria was out of her eyes, replaced with freezing hot fear, and—recognition! Whatever control Road had exerted over Miranda was gone, and she peered down at Allen with the soft if troubled smile of a comrade hoping.

"Very," said Allen, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her hand, if only to comfort her:—"Where's Lenalee?"

"Hush! Hush!" said Miranda in a low hurried tone. She looked anxiously over her shoulder (it was then she noticed Lavi in similar rabbit-wear, and uttered a giggle) as she spoke, and then leaned down, put her mouth close to Allen's ear, and whispered: "She is under order of execution."

A lead weight dropped into the base of Allen's stomach, and it took all his strength not to fall to his knees. "What for?" he demanded, panic sweeping up on him like a tidal wave.

"She kicked the Qu—Road, I mean," Miranda began. Lavi, who was listening in closely, gave a little scream of laughter at the idea of Road being struck in the face with a high-heeled boot. "Oh, hush!" Miranda whispered in a frightened tone. "The Queen—Road—will hear you! You see, she threatened to have Komui killed, and so Road—"

"Get to your places!" shouted Road in a voice of thunder, and akuma began running about in all directions, bumping into one another and tumbling over everyone. The fear of Road's wrath got all parties settled, and in a moment the game began: though just what kind of game it would be was anyone's guess. Croquet was as normal a game as you could get, but surely Road had found some method to perverse it.

A/N: The line Lavi mutters "Why are you doing this Al? Why are you bringing me into this?" is actually a quote from Aladdin. It only seemed appropriate. I'd have had this chapter up sooner, but a series of unfortunate events (HA) kept me from doing so. I've only just had time to write again. This chapter was also supposed to extend the length of the actual croquet game, but people seem to really like this story, so I'm just posting what I have now. SO MANY THANK YOUS to the people who read this. 3


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